Pediophobia
by Boopedmysnek
Summary: A shame. A disgrace. Pediophobia; a fear of dolls. One of the greatest superheroes of all time, Spiderman, is afraid of dolls. What would the Avengers think if they were to find out?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel.

Author's note: I don't know, I was writing a novel and my main character had Pediophobia (fear of dolls) so I thought to practise a bit I would have Spiderman have it as well. Dunno, stupid thought. If I get a lot of likes, then I might do more characters with phobias. Please help to make this as realistic as possible.

* * *

Peter had a humiliating, and pathetic secret. The only person who knew was Aunt May, and that was only because he had screamed and cried in the middle of a toy shop in the doll's section.

Pediophobia. A fear of dolls. Pathetic, right? Dolls aren't dangerous, nor are they even alive. Yet, they _are._ They watch you, their blank eyes following you, seeing everything you do. They are inanimate while you see them, but the moment you turn around, they will come closer. Closer and closer, until they strike.

They know all of your secrets, your dreams, and your nightmares. They can use them against you, while dressed in frilly dresses and curly blond locks.

They are simple toys, but with human like features. Their faces are emotionless, their eyes cold and glazed. They are like humans, but much more fake and unreal.

At the age of fifteen, Peter shouldn't be afraid of them, but he is. Therapy was much too expensive, and gradual exposure made it much more worse. Porcelain dolls, barbie dolls, voodoo dolls, everything. The only types he wasn't afraid of were the plush dolls, and the animal dolls.

Animals are nice, and plush dolls are cuddly. Those are safe.

Peter never got why people liked _Toy Story._ A movie about dolls and toys, moving about whenever they please, and freezing in place when people come, so humans never will suspect.

If the Avengers were to know, they would laugh at him. After all, Spider-man, afraid of dolls? They would think that he's weak, that he isn't worth hanging around.

That's why he never told them. He loved them like uncles and aunts. Sure, they were a bit weird, but they were his friends. And he didn't want to break the friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Does it looks like I own Marvel? If you've read my writing, you would know.

* * *

Spring cleaning. Yay. Thanks, Cap.

Although, cleaning a slightly dusty basement isn't really that bad. At least he didn't have to clean the bathroom (lol, sorry Clint).

Peter peered into the darkness of the surprisingly large basement. On second thoughts, this looked like the beginning of a horror movie.

He stepped inside, and ran his hand along the smooth wall for a light switch. Oh wait a second.

"Jarvis, turn on the lights please," Peter said.

"Lights, activating. Peter, you may want to stop Mr. Barton from closing the door behind you." Jarvis inquired. Peter spun around just as the lights came on and the door behind him shut with a click.

"What the-" He twisted the knob and pushed. It was locked.

Due to it being the Stark Tower, or the Avenger Tower, all of the doors were pretty much impenetrable, so that not even Peter himself could knock one down.

"Jarvis, tell Clint that when I get out I will set the spiders upon him. And get someone to help me out of here, please."

He sighed, and turned around. He would just have to wait for someone to get him now. In the meantime, there were some interesting relics around. The basement only looked as if it was abandoned for a couple of months, and seemed to be mostly used for the Avengers to throw their stuff in so the others can't find them. (Like the Room of Requirement. lol) Peter picked up a weird thing that looked like a long rubber tentacle, when a crash sounded farther into the basement.

Peter stiffened, and slowly turned to the source of the noise.

There it was. Underneath a broken shelf. Smooth porcelain like skin, dull blue eyes, and washed out blonde tangled hair. A simple blue dress with laces, and little black shoes. Dust blanketed across the small body.

His breath hitching in his throat, Peter pressed up against the door, furiously rattling the door knob.

"Jarvis, get someone _now_ ," Peter pleaded.

"On my way. Peter, your heartbeat is increasing, and you are close to the point of hyperventilation. Do you require a doctor to check after you?" Jarvis asked.

"Just get the thing away!" Peter swore he saw the doll's head turn towards him. He clenched his fists tightly, drawing blood with his nails. He firmly locked his gaze on the toy, not daring to break eye contact. _Don't blink don't blink don't blink don't blink you know what will happen!_ Wait, did the doll _just move?_

Peter launched himself at the door, and started beating the door with his fists furiously.

"SOMEONE! GET ME OUT! PLEASE!" Peter cried, ignoring the increasing pain in his hands. He slammed desperately into the door, getting a sharp pain in his side for his troubles. Tears streaming down his face, Peter screamed himself hoarse as he rattled the barely budging door.

He could _hear_ small, slow, clicking footsteps behind him, fueling his panic and making his hands shake. Peter jumped as something brushed against his ankle.

"NO! NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!" In his fear induced state, he rammed into the door again. The door gave way, and Peter fell to the ground with a thump.

"Peter!"

"Peter, what happened?"

"Are you alright?"

Questions surrounded him, worry and pity, things he didn't need. He needed to get away, somewhere else, a place where the _thing_ wouldn't get him.

"PETER!" Someone shook him, snapping his thoughts of the _thing_ for a moment. He looked into the eyes of a worried Tony. "Peter, what happened?"

He was safe now. There was nothing to worry about. The Avengers were there with him. Peter took a deep breathe. "Umm, nothing." Peter winced. Yeah, that was cringy AF.

"Nothing?" Tony exclaimed, "NOTHING! You literally screamed for help, and all you say is nothing? Peter, you know that we can help you, right?"

Peter shamefully looked at his shoes. It was just a doll. An inanimate toy. And yet, here he was, crying like the pathetic baby he was. Some hero he was.

"It was nothing," he lied, making it up on the spot, "It just...I thought it was something else, that's all." There, that sounded believable, right?

"Yeah, sure." Tony didn't sound convinced.

"Alright then, why don't we just resume our cleaning and-" Steve was cut off.

"NO!" Peter yelled. All eyes landed on him. "Um, can I just, clean some other room?"

"If you want to." Steve sighed.

"HEY! WHY DO I HAVE TO CLEAN THE BATHROOM THEN?" Clint argued.

"THAT'S YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR SWEARING!" Steve yelled.


End file.
